


summer flower

by ecomexi



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Angst (?), Drabble, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 00:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13306554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecomexi/pseuds/ecomexi
Summary: But it was summer, now, and Nezumi was gone.





	summer flower

**Author's Note:**

> binged all the no. 6 media and felt inclined to write something small. twitter @shinmetoriii but im mostly in a mobage pit

Sunflowers bloomed in the summer, and always faced the sun. Their seeds and oil were edible, and their leaves were broad and coarse. They were used for snacks, paints, and medical ointments. They grew wildly, and in some cases in farmland, where they were considered a weed. A nuisance. Eventually the world had no more use for them; they were treated as a problem and went extinct almost instantly after the world split into six.

Shion shut the book. Its cover and heavy pages blew dust into his face; dust always seemed to creep to him no matter how many times he cleaned the place. This place that he never visited anymore — never had the time to visit anymore. Why was he here, again, plucking a book off the neatly organized shelves and reading about pointless things? In the underground room?

He wanted to stay here his whole life. It was true, he really did want to live here and spend all of his days curled up on the bed rereading and rereading books he'd already read multiple times. He wanted to stay here and smile as sweat trickled down his forehead, pressing Nezumi close to him even though the air was hotter than anything he'd ever felt. He wanted to take Nezumi's hand and let him twirl him round and round; wanted to put one foot dramatically on the couch and passionately recite lines from plays and poems they'd both memorized as if they'd been doing it their entire lives (even if, well, Nezumi had). Shion wanted more than anything to spend summer in this room. With him.

But it was summer, now, and Nezumi was gone.

Shion stroked the cover of the book with his thumb. It was something you could almost call a textbook; an encyclopedia of flora previously found around the area. Of course, it was written before the incident, and so now he could remember seeing only a small fraction of the plants with his own eyes. He'd briefly learned about sunflowers in his old ecology classes, but relearning the information again was fascinating. They were so bright-looking, healthy-looking. Interesting — no matter what time of the day, the flower faced the sun, as if they were some sort of manifestation of the concept of optimism. But now they no longer existed, because _they_ had wiped them out. Humanity had. What kind of inspiration was that?

Shion remembered one day, while the two of them were in here, he had asked him.

"In the summer, does it get hot in here? How will we cook? Oh, do we cook outside if it's sunny?"

Perhaps it was arrogant of him, as Nezumi had told him off for, but Shion had known in his heart that they'd return there. Somehow, they'd stay alive and they'd make it through the winter and the spring and everything that came afterwards. And Shion remembered that after he had said it, Nezumi had smiled and shook his head, amused, as if he truly, sincerely believed that Shion would be dead by the time the summer rolled around.

 _Here I am, Nezumi. I'm alive. I'm breathing. I'm thinking. I'm sane._ Shion brooded as he slid the encyclopedia back into the bookshelf. _So where are you? Where could you be that's more important than being with me?_

"I want to spend summer with you. Alive," Shion whispered. "What did that mean to you?"

_You're still so naive. Counting on things like "happiness", "peace"? It's hopelessly optimistic._

_I know it's selfish. I know, but... I want to see him._

Shion hadn't seen Hamlet, Cravat, or Tsukiyo since Nezumi had left, either. Unsurprisingly — he knew that they loved him, but it was unlikely, at best, that they'd leave Nezumi behind to stay with him. That, and Nezumi himself would probably have wanted company.

_Damn it... Why couldn't I have come with you, Nezumi...?_

The mice probably would have been scampering around, perching on his shoulder or on a stack of books that they had particularly liked. Perhaps they'd start cheep, cheep, cheep-ing at the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes, or maybe they'd run into his jacket sleeve to cheer him up. Nezumi would glare disapprovingly at the ruckus he'd make; the books he'd accidentally trip over. Then, maybe, he too would notice the tears bubbling over in Shion's expression and his gray eyes would soften. His hand would cup Shion's face just like it had so many times before, and he would tell Shion that he was there now, with him, and it wasn't his fault for feeling lonely because it was his fault, his fault for leaving him for so, so long.

Shion missed that touch, that warm feeling over his cheek, and that hand that lovingly stroked his hair like it was a treasure. In the winter, Shion sat in front of the heater, and he now missed the feeling that buzzed inside him when suddenly and without warning Nezumi had softly begun to caress his head. Was it so much to ask to want that touch back? Was it too high a demand? Was it greedy? Was it too outrageous to imagine Nezumi by his side again, in the blazing heat? To be with him as the sun beat down on his skin? To talk to him if only it was to keep his mind off how much his throat ached for water?

Shion squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled over to the bed. He practically fell into it, and buried his face into the pillow. It still smelled like him, but it also smelled of ash. Nezumi's scent... wasn't even describable. It was just... him. It was threatening, but to Shion, comforting. The bed was also left as he remembered it; the sheet a little bit undone at the corner and the mattress hard and uncomfortable. Now, Shion hated the feeling, but with Nezumi, he never recalled minding that much.

 _Why? Why, why, why?_ he despaired. _Why did you have to leave with that lame excuse of "We can't be together"? Why couldn't you have tried? Why can't you come back?_

He felt like a spoiled brat stomping his feet and whining, but he didn't care. All he wanted was Nezumi back. All he wanted was Nezumi at his side so he would forget about how uncomfortable the bed was. Why was he still here if he couldn't be with him?

... Shion exhaled, and sunk deeper into the bed. No more throwing tantrums. Just waiting, and patience. Someday he'd see him again. He promised. Nezumi had. Shion took deep breaths, stared at the ceiling, and found himself wondering if Nezumi was as torn up about him as Shion was about him. It'd been a few months — would Nezumi have already erased Shion from his memory? Snapped his fingers, and forgotten everything they'd been through? Was it that easy for him? Should Shion try to do the same? Would that lessen the pain of the pins stabbing through his heart, one by one, as he recalled how _over there, Nezumi had taken my hand and danced with me,_ or _over here, I'd touched his cheek and kissed him_ , or _over this way, we'd spent the whole night reading side by side_? Maybe it was easier to forget and to let go of those precious memories than to cling desperately onto them until they were nothing but hopeless, faded fantasies.

Normally, Shion wouldn't have to think of these things. Normally his mind was occupied with reforming the city, or helping his mother, or visiting Inukashi. Even before Nezumi had left, it was always a constant kind of feeling with no such worries. Shion could never bother to think of how much he was alive when Nezumi's hand joined with his, how much he adored his face being caressed gently. He never knew how much he would come to miss staring into Nezumi's eyes. The gray eyes that pulled him in; that never seemed to give any answers but left him mystified nonetheless. The phrase "You don't know how much you love something until it's gone" could not have rung more painfully true.

_I want to cook dinner with you. I want to sit next to you watching the sun set late in the horizon. I want to go inside the room as sweat rolls down my body, and I want to squeeze in next to you in bed even though we're both tired and hot and I want to hold you tight. So tight that you turn around while half-asleep, grumble at me, hold my chin, kiss my forehead, pull me closer, anything. Please, I'd give anything to see you again. I'd pay anything for just one more look into your eyes._

  "Good night, Nezumi," Shion murmured, his eyelids feeling heavier — noticing the sun begrudgingly setting outside — "Come home soon."

.


End file.
